


Kinship

by exilefromlife



Series: Legacy [9]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Siblings, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23484139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exilefromlife/pseuds/exilefromlife
Summary: Atraxia asks Varian a question.
Series: Legacy [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673437
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Kinship

Varian feels his sister’s energy through the halls before she even steps close to the study where he’s working out a trade agreement Wrathion had given him. Andagos is curled up by the fire, book he was reading open on his chest as he snores lightly. Varian hopes his sister isn’t here to argue with him over who gets their papa’s time, as he’d much prefer his husband get the nap he obviously needed. He looks at the timepiece on his desk and sighs. At least Atraxia had good timing, he needed a break from the damn paperwork anyway.

His sibling gives the standard two-knock courtesy and waits a few moments before opening the door and striding across the room to take a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. Varian takes a moment to assess her mood, relaxing when he sees that she’s not here to start an argument.

“Evening, Ata.” He says pleasantly, leaning forward to be closer to her. He extends a hand towards her.

“Hello, Varian.” She takes his hand, smiling softly. “I see Andagos has actually managed _not_ to fall asleep with the book on his face again.”

“He knows better after I made him procure me another copy after ruining it with his drool.” Varian says with a laugh. “Does this visit have a purpose, or are you just bored?”

Atraxia shrugs, but her brother sees the shift in expression as she contemplates her words. “I want to ask you a very important question.”

“Ah.” He releases her hand, causing her to look at him with wide eyes. He shakes his head and moves around the desk to stand next to her. “No doubt the question’s been stewing for a while. Come, I desperately need to stretch my legs, and you can ask your question without being interrupted by my darling husband’s snoring.”

She looks at the arm he offers and, after a moment, takes it. Varian places his other hand on top of hers and tips his head so he’s leaning against her. Atraxia relaxes more with the gesture. “Short.”

He snorts. “Not my fault you’re the tallest of our clutch. No one told you to be a damn giant.”

“And no one told you to be the runt of the litter.” Her words are spoken lightly, and with the knowledge that she doesn’t believe a word of it.

Varian sticks his tongue out at her anyway. As they meander through the halls of Blackrock Mountain, greeting the servants and Blacktalons they pass along the way, he can’t help but feel like his sister’s sitting on a major question. The fact that she’s come to him rather than their parents means his response is going to directly affect him. It doesn’t take a genius to make an intuitive leap about the topic. “Ata, please stop dawdling. We both know you’re going to ask about Grim Batol again.”

Credit where credit is due, Atraxia doesn’t startle at being called out about the question at hand. That meant she either had played out every possible response already, or simply had resigned herself to the prior answers from their papa. “This time I’m not asking Papa. I’m asking _you._ It was _your_ project, it nearly killed _you_ \--”

“ _Did_ kill me, Ata.”

“Details, details.” She waves it off, and Varian once again is relieved that his sister has never dwelled on what had happened. “The point is, Grim Batol should be yours, so I’m asking you.”

The older dragon stops and pulls her to face him. His voice is stern. “Grim Batol was never intended to be mine. I never wanted it! Papa has that stupid notion ingrained in his head, but _I don’t want it!”_

“You don’t? Then why would you do that?”

“For you, you idiot.” He replies, rolling his eyes. “I can’t rule there even if everything had gone right, I’m the heir to Blackrock _and_ Stormwind. I’m already going to have to abdicate from one of those--”

“Stormwind.”

“No shit.”

“Oh good, just making sure.”

“Turalia can have it.” Varian’s much younger sister had the most talent with the Light, becoming one of the first black dragon priestesses. She’d followed in their father’s footsteps and trained with Velen and later her namesake, Turalyon, and harnessed the power she wielded with almost as much aptitude as their father. The people of Stormwind adored her. He’d be more than happy to abdicate tomorrow, but their parents were waiting to see if the human that was courting her would ask for her hand first.

In Varian’s humble opinion, the human was an idiot if he didn’t.

He turns his attention back to Atraxia. “I can’t rule Blackrock and Grim Batol. They’re just too far apart.”

“You could always portal back and forth.” She points out helpfully.

“Oh, sure, let’s just see how my heart handles the constant exposure to leylines. That went _so well_ last time!” He still felt the effects of tapping into the leylines twenty years prior. While he’d recovered very well, his heart was forever weakened and his hands still shook. It wasn’t much of a problem anymore, but damned inconvenient at times.

“You get constant exposure to Andagos’ leyline.” Atraxia mutters.

Varian smacks her arm lightly. “Ata!”

“What, it’s true!” She exclaims, completely unashamed. “Do you mean it, though? I can take Grim Batol?”

“Titans, yes, please. Move in tomorrow for all I care. From what Aldarion says, it’s fully functional and the dwarves are maintaining it well.” His younger brother had cleansed the Bastion of Twilight and the Twilight Citadel, turning them into the Citadel of Hope--Varian gagged at the name, even mentally, no matter how appropriate it was. It served as a training facility and home for most of their non-magically inclined siblings.

“You’re certain?” Atraxia asks, voice hopeful.

Varian rolls his eyes at her. “Ask me again, and I’ll tell Papa about Morastrasz.”

She gasps and shoves him against the nearest wall. “You wouldn’t _dare!”_

“Ata and Moras, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S--” His mouth gets covered with both his sister’s hands before he can finish the tease. Like a child, he simply sticks out his tongue and licks her hand.

“Ew, _Varian!!”_ She shrieks, shaking her hand and wiping it on Varian’s shirt.

He crosses his arms, grinning. “You know you can’t keep it a secret forever. Alex already knows, how long do you thing _she’s_ going to keep her mouth shut around Papa? Especially if you become queen of Grim Batol?”

“Moras has already begged her not to tell him before I can. She promised.” Atraxia blushes and moves to lean against the wall. “But I know I have to…and soon.”

Her tone makes the older dragon’s head whip towards her. “Ata, please tell me you two have been taking precautions. If you have a clutch before you tell Papa, he’s going to be furious!”

“I’m not pregnant, Varian, I’m not that careless.”

“You’re not careless at all, but I had to make sure.” He slides down the wall to sit against it, shoving his sister’s skirts out of the way. She joins him a moment later.

“He asked me to be his mate a month ago.” Atraxia leans against his shoulder, sighing. “And just two nights ago asked me to marry him. I don’t know what to do, Papa hates the red dragonflight.”

He wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Nah, just hates Alex. He won’t be too thrilled about you not telling him earlier, but he won’t be too mad.”

“I don’t want him to hate me…”

“Pfft, not possible. He put up with us as whelps, if that didn’t make him hate us, nothing will.” Varian’s magic hums and he grins. His sister’s magic isn’t nearly as attuned as his is within the mountain, and he makes a decision for her. He’s throwing her to the sharks with it, but as her sibling it’s his sworn duty anyway. “But you have to tell Papa that you’re going to marry a red dragon.”

Atraxia sits straight up when she hears the scuff of boots on stone. She glares at Varian. “You’re a fucking traitor, you ass.”

“Love you too. Papa, care to join the conversation?” He turns to watch the hall coming down the mountain and grins broadly when their papa comes into view, looking rather flabbergasted. Varian stands up and meets him halfway. In a hushed whisper, he says, “Please be nice about it. She really loves him and he really loves her.”

Wrathion’s eyes flick over to him. “I--of course. Of course. Thank you, my darling.”

“Mhmm.” He starts to walk away, leaving the two of them to chat, before turning back around and speaks at a normal volume. “Oh, and I gave her Grim Batol, no take-backs!”

“You _what?!”_

Varian scurries away, cackling to himself. Gotta love family.


End file.
